Chapter 3 #2
“And Dad?” I say in a low voice. “We leave him here with a bullet in his spine with no one to protect him? We leave Zio Vinnie and the rest of his men behind without leadership while the Russians circle like vultures ready to attack?”
She lets out a huff. “That’s not your problem to worry about.”
“It became my problem the second those gunmen opened fire at the gala, Lulu,” I say, using the nickname I gave her.
Luna’s eyes glaze over. She brings her knees to her chest, making herself small the way she always used to when she was scared as a little girl. I used to climb into bed with her during thunderstorms and tell her stories until the lightning stopped.
Little did she know that those thunderstorms wouldn’t come anywhere close to the horrors and monsters she’d learn to fear as an adult.
She was twelve when she figured out what our father really does. I was the one who had to explain it. Not Mom. Not Dad. Me. Because that’s what I do. I smooth out the sharp edges of the truth so no one else gets cut.
I reach over and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She leans into my hand, and for as much as she might want to bury her head in the sand, the reality is that we’re grown women with real threats against us. Deadly threats. And we need to face them.
How can I walk away from this contract knowing that every step puts another target on the heads of my family?
“That Molloy guy,” she says after a minute. “Lochlan. He stayed the whole night. Last time I took a walk, I noticed he was gone. But he was here for a long time, longer than he needed to be here.””
“I noticed.”
“He didn’t have to.”
“I’m sure he was just doing what his father told him to do.”
“Maybe.” She’s quiet for a second. “Or maybe not. The way he looked at you, Adri…”
“Don’t go there.”
“I’m just saying—”
“It doesn’t matter how he looked at me. This is a business arrangement. That’s all it is.”
She cringes at my sharp tone, her eyes wide.
“Sorry.” I sigh. “That’s all it can be.”
Luna reaches for my hand and squeezes hard. I let her, because I need the anchor of comfort as much as she does.
“I hate this,” she whispers.
“Me too.”
“I don’t want to lose you to this world. I already lost Dad.”
“You’re not losing me. Ever.” I squeeze back. “And Dad is going to wake up.”
Luna and I take turns pacing the length of the waiting room.
My mother and Vincenzo come out of the chapel around seven-thirty. Mom looks like she’s aged ten years overnight. Her eyes are swollen and puffy, her gown wrinkled. The bloodstains on the silk have turned a dark, rusty brown. But her spine is straight and she holds her head up high.
DiMicheli women don’t slouch. Not even in the face of carnage.
Vincenzo is still in his dress shirt from the gala, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, the blood now dried stiff into the fabric. He looks exhausted. Streaks of purple shadow the undersides of his eyes, and stubble covers his jaw. But when his gaze lands on me, his face softens.
“Adriana.” He pulls me in for a hug, the scent of incense clinging to his clothes and skin. “How’s your father?”
“Stable.”
“Good. Stable is good.” He motions for me to step away from Mom and Luna. “We need to talk. Not about the contract. About what comes next for your father’s business.”
“Now?”
“I’m afraid it can’t wait, bella mia.” He glances at my mother, who gives a small, tired nod.
“I’ve gotten messages from some of the men.
Word of the attack has spread. Your father’s captains are going to start asking questions.
Some of them will use this as an opportunity to make a power grab.
And the Russians…” He shakes his head and presses his fingers to his temples.
“I’m afraid they will try to turn our men against us, making us even weaker. ”
My stomach drops. He’s right. I know he’s right. I’ve run my company long enough to know that you jump at opportunities when your competition is most vulnerable. You can get the best deals when the opposition is crumbling — people, goods, services, territories. Everything is fair game.
And by all accounts, we are crumbling.
Vincenzo’s voice drops. “And your cousin Riccardo has been running his mouth since last night telling anyone who’ll listen that Francesco’s finished.
” His lips pull together in a tight line.
“I understand that your father took him under his wing when his brother died, but someone needs to wire that kid’s mouth shut,” he grumbles.
Riccardo. Of course. My cousin has always had more ambition than common sense and a mouth that writes checks his brain can’t cash. The only reason why he’s still alive to spout off bullshit is because of my father’s influence.
“Someone needs to step up,” Vincenzo says. “Someone the men will respect. Someone with the DiMicheli name who can walk into a room and make them believe everything is under control.” He pauses. “Even if it isn’t.”
He lets that hang in the air. My mother and Luna both look at me.
And I get it. I’m the CEO. I’m the one who’s spent twenty-two years proving she can lead. I’m the eldest daughter. The one with the DiMicheli name and a reputation for not backing down.
They’re all scared. Rightfully so. My father’s fate could easily become theirs.
Jesus, this is insane. I run a consulting firm, not a crime family. But the alternative is watching everything my father built get torn apart while he lies unconscious in that bed.
Blood rushes between my ears, my heartbeat hammering against my ribcage.
I have no choice.
“I’ll do it,” I say, the words echoing in the small space. They come out before I can second-guess them. They reverberate against the walls, amplifying in my ears. Making my reality… well, real.
“Until Dad wakes up. I’ll hold things together.”
A look of relief flickers across Vincenzo’s face, gratitude in his smile.
“Of course,” he says. “I’ll put a meeting together for this afternoon. We’ll go through it all. Step by step. I will be by your side through it all, bella mia.”
“And the Molloys?” Mom asks.
Vincenzo’s jaw sets. “Eamon will push for a quick timeline on the wedding. He wants this alliance locked down before anyone else makes a move.”
“He’ll get his timeline when I’m ready to give it to him,” I say. “Not before.”
Vincenzo nods. “That’s exactly what your father would say.”
“Don’t.” I hold up a hand. “Don’t compare me to him. Not right now.”
“Fair enough.” He pulls out his phone and holds it up. “I’ll make the arrangements with the capos now.”
My shoulders quake as I sink onto the couch and drop my head into my hands.
Dad is still lying in that bed, unconscious, broken, and with secrets he might never get to explain.
In a few hours, I’ll sit across from his most trusted men, men who’ve known me since I was a kid in pigtails sneaking cannoli from the kitchen during Sunday dinners.
I’ll have to convince them that a woman they’ve never taken seriously as a leader is capable of running an empire she never wanted, nor understood.
And somewhere out there, Lochlan Molloy is waking up to the same reality I am struggling with.
We’re trapped, caught in a dangerous web our fathers wove out of desperation and a struggle for control.
“Adriana?”
I look up. My sister, my mother, and Vincenzo are all watching me. And waiting.
My whole life, I’ve commanded boardrooms full of powerful men who wanted to see me fail.
I’ve negotiated billion-dollar deals that would make most people’s knees buckle.
I built a consulting empire from nothing but ambition and spite and a burning, relentless need to prove that Adriana Colonna was more than Francesco DiMicheli’s daughter.
This is different. This is blood and bullets and families who kill with the ease of taking a breath.
But the principle is the same.
Never let them see you cower.
I straighten my spine, lift my chin, and look at the people counting on me to be stronger than any of us feel right now.
“Let’s get to work.”